


Ghost

by ToraNine09 (TCMMKLA)



Series: Echoes [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Tags Contain Spoilers, author loves messy tags (:, felix gets vibe checked more than once, felix is a dick for no reason, nobody has the patience for felix’s bullshit, not your typical headcanon, please keep yelling at me to upload or i will forget, tags are ahead to avoid announcing spoilers, technically a rewrite, technically pre-mercs/UNSC life, the UNSC is morally grey as always, you will have to perform mental gymnastics to be able to fit this into both halo and rvb lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 12:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCMMKLA/pseuds/ToraNine09
Summary: It’s hard to focus on the present when you’re haunted by images of the past. It’s even harder when you find out it’s not a hallucination this time.
Series: Echoes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206767





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite because q-tine drove me nuts.
> 
> Note: This series will periodically have slightly heavier depictions of violence than source, and will frequently reference dubious morality as in both Halo & RvB canon. Unless its highly requested, I won’t preface chapters with their specific TWs, so assume the content in the tags may appear at any time.

"Uh, if I may?"

"You may not."

"… I think you should probably be resting the sniper on the rock, rather than‑"  
"Well, _I_ think you should shut the fuck up, Lieutenant, before I rest it on you instead. What do you think of that?"

The pair had just spent the best part of a day hiking out to the middle of nowhere with only the equipment they could carry between them, and Gates was far beyond impatient with his forcibly assigned right‑hand newbie.

"To make it clear. I do not intend for you to be alive when I do that."

Gates didn’t bother checking over his shoulder to see her reaction - too busy fighting with the mostly unfamiliar weight of the rifle, hindered somewhat by the fact that the boulder they opted to set up behind was slightly too tall for him to aim over for long periods of time without it being uncomfortable. The awkward shifting of his partner’s armour was satisfying evidence that she was learning her place. Sure - they were technically the same rank, but she had only been with the squad for a fraction of the time he had, so for all intents and purposes he was in charge. Being new to the squad, she was yet to grow unfazed by his brash behaviour.

Gates wasn’t used to spending more than a couple hours alone with fresh meat, but with their numbers dwindling, there was no choice - even more so considering a growing number of his squad started to refuse to be paired with him. Assholes.

Not that he cared.

Sure, due praise and attention for his talents was welcomed with open arms but he didn’t like it when people got _attached_. He didn’t like having to _look out_ for other people. He didn’t like having to care about anyone except Isaac Fucking Gates - which was admittedly hard enough as it was. No, there was absolutely _no reason whatsoever_ for him to be paired up with anyone under any circumstance at all, _period_. This kind of excursion especially didn’t need two people. Less footprints, less risk. Less risk, less trouble. Two’s better than five, sure, but what’s better than two…?

The soldier’s face soured as he replayed the lecture his CO gave him prior to the mission, behind closed doors. "Liability my ass." He mumbled with venom that probably ought to be directed at the target. One’s better than two.

The rookie behind him was starting to wane from fatigue, subconsciously shifting to maintain her balance - the unfortunate straw that broke the camel’s back. "Jesus Christ!" Gates whipped round to stare her down, "Did they hire you straight out of fucking preschool? Can’t even sit still? Jesus _fucking_ Christ. I’d threaten you again but all things considered I don’t think I could shoot a child. What’s your name again?" A second of silence suggests she’s not sure if she’s supposed to reply. "It’s Richards, sir… And I’m ‑"  
" _Wow!_ " He cuts her off again, "I have a wonderful fact for you, kid! _I don’t care_. It was a rhetorical question. You ever learn about those? Man, you really did come fresh out of preschool, huh? Anyway! Shut up. I would tell you to sit there and look pretty but‑ oh! _Look at that!_ It would seem that’s also my job. So just sit there. Quietly."

The lieutenant swayed lightly in apprehension, half diverting her attention to the sounds around them instead and wondering why they put him of all people in charge of what was supposed to be a quiet takedown… She takes a second to close her eyes and breathe. Soon they’d be back at base and she’d getting reputation for being sent out with Gates yet somehow returning in one piece. It’s worth the stress.

Gates, in his growing frustration, decided that he was going to have better luck wielding the rifle while stood up - but still refusing to set it on the rock. He wouldn’t dare prove a rookie right. Even if he knew that she was. He continued to mumble vague insults at nobody in particular as he surveyed the area through the scope. Several guards located across the estate. All windows blocked or boarded. The back of a car seen from behind a corner, but not any part of it that could explode or ignite when shot. Very prepared. Definitely the target.

The mission was a departure from the squad’s norm. A quick one - take out some high‑ranking nobody that the UNSC didn’t like. Gates didn’t really pay attention to the details. No need to - the militias in this sector are a known threat to both civilians and the forces, with this particular group being held responsible for a wide number of hostage situations and piracy of UNSC equipment across the sector. From what he could see, it wasn’t the top of the chain, but Gates’ CO make sure to clarify just how crucial it would be to take this guy out.

After the collapse of the Covenant, many of the larger and less specialised fireteams were reworked as a lethal‑authorised response to the criminal undergrowth that sprung up during the war. Several shady organisations had taken advantage of the distraction that the war offered, to seize control of settlements - some even taking entire planets straight out of UNSC jurisdiction - and grow considerably in size. The UNSC had to take these groups down a notch again before humanity tore itself apart - and silently - hence the rapid reinvestment of experienced troops into more civil matters.

Other social groups, however, refused to believe that aliens were real despite multiple historic attacks on notable human colonies. Many of these groups simply tried to "prove" the illegitimacy of the Great War with demonstrations and political movements, but some took it a step further and made actual attempts to take down the UNSC and "end it’s ‘power hungry tyranny’ for the sake of humanity and truth"… Gates rolled his eyes and exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. If he was in charge, he’d have made the bastards fight front line against the few splinter groups trying to continue their plight. However, many of these directionless and clueless factions were long gone now. His battalion had been one of the driving forces in taking down the more aggressive groups. He took satisfaction - _pride_ in that fact.

The peace was broken by a shot from a 50 calibre rifle colliding with the rock Gates and Richards were taking cover behind, the sound cascading around the walls of the cavern behind them. "Shit‑!" Dropping immediately, Gates glanced over his shoulder and saw that his apprentice was still alive. ‘ _An improvement on the last one_ ,’ he thought to himself.

"Are you okay?" Her genuine line of enquiry despite the shoddy treatment caused Gates to freeze, but not as much as it made him fear he’d been hit and it hadn’t registered thanks to adrenaline. Braving a glance down, he saw no blood. "I’m fine. Either that was a warning shot, or they’re just as hard‑pressed for men with any semblance of skill as we are. The attention does limit our choices now, though." Looking around provided no inspiration. "Dammit… Okay Richards, make yourself useful. Head down that rockslide on the eastern side of the valley." He vaguely gestured to the path behind the novice. "The bottom of it came out between those two smaller buildings - clear those. I’ll try to keep ‘em busy while you work your way in." Gates fluttered his fingers as he spoke, trying to shoo her away. "After they’re empty we’ll have a better position to properly retaliate from."

Richards paused hesitantly before affirming the order, earning mild respect. ‘ _Quick to learn. Maybe she will be useful_.’ The soldier moved carefully towards the back wall, readying her magnum while ensuring she kept low before disappearing through a gap in the rocks. Gates sturdied himself as he estimated the window the shot came from, then stood once again. His guess wasn’t far off, and the glint of the scope as the enemy lined up for another shot helped him hit his mark. Was it a reflection? It was distinctly orange; much unlike any equipment he knew. Modified? Or perhaps a laser sight? Doesn’t matter. One down. The recoil was unfamiliar and meant he needed an extra second to recover, so he took the time to quickly scan the state of play.

Most of the guards had disappeared or were on their way to cover by now, which just meant more time they’d need to spend hunting them down. They only needed to off the leader, but at this point why leave the job half finished? The more dead rebels, the merrier. Gates managed to kill a second and injure a third guard before gunfire to the east broke out. Two guns; a pistol against a rifle. Modified rifle. A modified rifle which continued to ring out long after the pistol stopped.

Gates briefly considered what the possible outcome would’ve been if he had allowed Richards to use the sniper instead of him.

"Fuck." He shifted in place for a second before awkwardly trying his best to aim down the side of the building at the only doorway he could see. His position was pretty obvious at this point, so he hedged a bet the guard would leave his hiding spot, full of confidence from killing the young soldier, but brainless enough to not think about aiming at the‑

Another 50 cal shot rings out, this time from the eastern rocks; a second crow’s nest hidden in the cliff edge. Gates isn’t sure if it’s the crack of the shot across the way or the pain in his left shoulder which registers first.

"Fuck‑" He staggers back, now unwieldily supporting the sniper in only his right hand as his other arm drops. He can’t settle between anger, disappointment and confusion, and he daren’t look at the wound. It’s bad. He knows it’s bad. It had threaded its way into the gap between the collar of his chestplate and the edge of his shoulder armour. He‘d like to ready the heavy gun again, but the searing burn radiating across his chest suggests that’s not wise, and attempting to raise the rifle with only his right arm goes just as swimmingly, so retreating into the cavern to recuperate is the only option he has.

When Gates’ back hits the wall, more pain tears through his torso, causing him to drop the sniper. He fights back the torrent of self‑hate, opting instead to bite his tongue and make a mental note to kick himself later for being so reckless with yet another rookie. While contemplating his next move, Gates frees one of his few remaining knives from a tactical pouch and gingerly works the blade into his techsuit, to tear a wider gap around the wound. The lightest of touches sends sharp stings to his core.

Gates swallowed hard as he reluctantly drew focus to the wound, watching the deep red rolling out of the suit. Yeah, not good. The soldier pulled his helmet off to get a better angle on the injury, relaxing his shoulder as much as possible before raising the knife back to the wound. He winces as he finds and extracts the bullet, morbid curiosity encouraging him to inspect it briefly before throwing it to the ground. The blood cascading down his pale armour sends him reeling. He knew the injury was bad, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Gates’ vision starts to distort. But he’s not scared. Gates doesn’t get scared. Not even if he’s trapped between a rock and a thousand armed men. He snorts away the emotion that definitely isn’t fear.

Choices dwindling, he loosely takes the knife in his barely responsive left hand and puts all available co‑ordination into finding that little can of biofoam he always had stashed away in one of his pouches.

Except this time he can’t find it.

Because Richards was forced to carry all the supposed "boring shit".

Because he wanted to carry extra knives.

Just in case.

" _Fuck!_ "

A growled string of curses bounces around the walls of the cavern, interspersed with comments about how worth it the extra knives were and how he really ought to have done this mission alone because he was _clearly_ distracted by trying to train the kid he’d been paired with. His discarded helmet collides with the rock he was just hiding behind as he kicks it out of the way to shuffle along the back of the cave towards the rockslide, aware he’s unlikely to make it to Richards’ body without an encounter but willing to try regardless.

"Oh man, that sniper fucked you up _real_ good." A voice from behind prompts Gates to turn around and aim the bloody knife lazily, mentally blocking the pain the motion brought about. "That looked a lot less graceful than you wanted it to." The guard jeered.

"Get _fucked_ ," Gates slurred back, adding a weak "… Asshole," punctuated by another unsteady flail of his knife.

"Listen… You’re a stubborn little shit, but boss says that’s a good thing." The guard continued, stepping forwards and lowering the marksman rifle to his side. Gates did his best to make a note of the marine gear. Any tracking equipment would likely have been long disabled by now, but perhaps there remained some kind of identifying feature. Providing it wasn't stolen. "We would like to make you… An offer."

Gates’ grimaced as the guard spoke. "Let me guess, you’ll keep me alive as long as I get you information, or help you kill more troops, or…" It was getting hard for Gates to focus on staying upright, threatening the enemy, and talking coherently. He shook his head to refresh his train of thought. "What if I say no?"

"You ain’t even heard me out yet," replied the guard, preparing for resistance by returning the rifle to both hands.

"Maybe," the soldier started, a little more bitter than he intended to sound, "I don’t want to hear you out… Fuck you! You killed good soldiers." Gates was admittedly caught by surprise when he suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of the guard’s DMR; the silver finish of the scope, and its neon red ‑orange lens unsettlingly mis ‑matched from the rifle’s standard black finish and typically blue lens - definitely modified equipment. Great.

"So did you. I hear a lot about you. Fair enough, you’re good, but we don’t need you to better our ranks. You’re not holdin’ us hostage with your aggression, you know. I can - and will _happily_ \- get rid of you right now. Boss might not be best pleased that we lost the opportunity to have your skills on our side, but he ain’t here… And I wouldn’t be lyin' if I said you didn’t co ‑ operate." The light patter of blood hitting the floor from Gates’ armour and knife didn’t echo, but in approaching delirium it sure sounded like it did.

"To me, you’re just another asshole who thinks he’s God’s gift to the universe. Good‑for‑nothing hotshot trying to put on a display. Watching your behaviour just now?" The guard stepped closer again and affirmed the rifle’s aim by observing Gates through the scope, who simply stared back, entranced by the unusual design. "It’s laughable. You’re a clueless idiot… In my opinion, you’re reckless. I wouldn’t hire you. You’re dangerous. A liability‑"

Gates’ body reacted before his brain, lurching forwards to point at the guard with his good arm. "Fuck you!" The pain amplified his anger but the motion spurred on disaster, between the screaming agony and the steadily dropping blood pressure, Gates’ eyes began to lose focus. Blinking a couple times did nothing to help. He shifted to stay upright only to be spooked by the clatter of the knife on the floor, unaware he’d lost his grip. The guard smirked and lowered the gun once again to watch Gates’ stance begin to suggest defeat.

"Looks like you got three options to me. One - I let you bleed out and you die. Two - I shoot you and you die. Three, you play nice and accept our offer. You might still die, but you have a chance at livin'".

A long moment passed without a word. Gates’ eyes shut tight and his eyebrows furrowed before he relented, hissing out a barely audible acceptance through gritted teeth. With little else left to lose, Gates blacked out as he let himself succumb to blood loss.

He’s their problem now.

**Author's Note:**

> Here comes another Mercs series to throw on the pile. It’s been in my head for some time, but I only kinda recently got back into writing. Speaking of throwing, you might want to throw your expectations out the window because my god I am about to fuck all of that shit up. Oh and as an additional headache for those of you who try to contextualise Red vs Blue into Halo - This takes place between the events of Halo 3 & 4, but the Spartans here are IVs. (: That being said Gates’ armour here is Gen1 because I think its funny for him to be running around in that goofy ass g1 Scout helmet. No I will not explain how this fits in lore. For those wondering what this roughly looks like: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/397957539465003013/817149129960587304/image0.jpg
> 
> Chapter 2 Soon :tm:


End file.
